He Was Only Trying to Help
by percychased
Summary: A panicking Oliver Wood, a destroyed fruit cake, and Dobby to the rescue. For finals round 1 of the Quidditch League Competition - background Oliver/Katie. Slightly crack-ish.


_**He Was Only Trying to**** Help**_

* * *

Oliver Wood was a man on a mission.

That was probably putting it lightly.

It was his NEWT year, and he'd just gotten back from a rainy, muddy Quidditch practice with a sore throat - he blamed the aching of his vocal cords to the Weasley twins, who thought it amusing to do all sorts of nonsensical stuff on (and off) the pitch.

Merlin, two and a half hours wasn't that long!

He huffed and rushed down the corridor, the ends of his robes flapping behind him in a Snape-like manner, with a scowl on his face. Bloody hell, as if he had forgotten! Oliver blamed his bad memory on lack of sleep - he'd devised a whole new drill for the Chasers until one in the morning.

It was Katie's birthday - _and he'd forgotten. _This morning on the pitch, this evening on the pitch - he really had all day to say happy birthday to her.

_And he'd forgotten. _What kind of bloody idiot was he?

He knew Katie would answer a Quidditch-obsessed, idiotic neurotic moron.

He knew he wasn't the only one who had forgotten to wish her a happy birthday - many others had no idea - but the fact still remained that he had forgotten.

What kind of git forgets Katie's birthday?

Oliver tickled the pear and slipped inside of the kitchen. Katie had always mentioned how much she loved fruit cake - _not _that he paid attention to her all of the time, mind. That was definitely not the case.

The house elves still bustled around, and one caught sight of Oliver.

"Oliver Wood!" it squeaked. "How can Dobby help Oliver Wood, sir?"

It didn't even look like an elf. It looked like a stand draped in knitted fabrics, and there had to be at _least _five socks and five hats on the elf.

"Fruit cake, please, for Katie's birthday," he requested, and when Dobby's eyes widened, hastily added "Is that too much to ask?"

"No, sir Oliver," exclaimed Dobby. "Dobby is not used to politeness, sir. You are almost as kind as Mr. Harry Potter, sir."

Oliver almost laughed at that - Dobby sure sung Harry's high praises. The elf almost knocked another one over in his rush to start preparing the food cake.

Oliver jiggled his leg uncomfortably. These muddy robes were very uncomfortable, but he had to make it up to Katie.

He was sure she had noticed - last year, he'd been first in line to say happy birthday. He'd always gravitated towards the chaser; for reasons unknown. The blonde girl (well, she wasn't _really _a girl now, wasn't she?) was sarcastic, loud, teasing, and brave to the point of recklessness, and her and Oliver clashed spectacularly what with both of their strong personalities, but he'd always felt rather… protective of her. For what reason, he couldn't pinpoint the reason.

Maybe it had started when she had ran straight into him, a tiny little first year, and instead of scampering away like the rest of them did, skittish as they were, she definitely put her hands on her hips and told him _he _was blocking _her _way.

That little eleven year old had _fire, _fire he'd never seen in anyone else. And it utterly fascinated him. She was the kind of girl that could - and _would _- be proud of who she was, and would have no qualms making herself happy, no matter what.

"For sir," squeaked the house elf, handing him the dish and bowing.

Oliver looked down at the dish - it did in fact look appetizing, and his stomach was currently digesting itself with hunger, but from previous experience Oliver knew that fruit cake was _absolutely disgusting._ But if Katie liked it.

He walked quickly to Gryffindor Tower - mostly because he was out past curfew and had no excuse, really, except for the fact that he was getting his friend a fruit cake from the kitchens for her birthday.

Oliver was just about to enter the portrait hole when a crack from behind him startled him into dropping the fruit cake.

"Bloody fu - er, hi."

The fruit cake was a splattered mess on the floor, and Dobby stood only a few feet behind him. What was the elf doing here? Didn't he…

"Dobby heards it was Miss Katie Bell's birthday."

Oliver stared, shook his head, and cleared his throat. "Er, yeah. I'm just going to vanish this, and…"

Dobby looked down at the floor for the first time, and noticed the splattered fruit cake.

"Dobby is very sorry, Mister Wood! Sorry, oh, sorry! Dobby will have to punish himself for this, Dobby was only trying to help! Dobby wants to give a _bigger _fruit cake to Miss Katie for her birthday, from Mister Wood!"

Oliver Wood was a _very _eloquent boy, evidence being when he stumbled backwards and replied with "Er…"

"Dobby has made something spectacular! Dobby can make a _feast!"_

"Ah.. er, no feast, really… I'll just be going -"

"Dobby is sorry, sir! Dobby will get the _bigger _fruit cake he made!" With a crack, the elf disappeared, leaving a bewildered Oliver running his fingers through his hair next to the portrait hole.

"Are you going to come in or not?" snapped the Fat Lady.

"Er…"

_Crack. _

Oliver jumped slightly when Dobby appeared in front of him once more, all layers of knitted things, so thick you could barely see the elf underneath.  
"Mister Wood, Sunny and Sally and Dobby is very sorry!" The elf waas balancing a cake so enormous it would be fit for a wedding. Dobby thrust the cake into the hands of Oliver, and with a large, happy grin, and a "Miss Katie has a happy birthday!" Dobby Apparated away.

Oliver stood, slightly confused as to _what in the name of Merlin just happened _with a large fruit cake in his hands and muddy, soggy robes sticking to his ankles, in front of the portrait hole.

"_Are you going to come in or not?_"

* * *

a/n - I've gotten no sleep the past week and I have no clue what I just wrote. I guess it's slightly crack-ish? Anyways, for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Comp.


End file.
